Primrose Everdeen
by The Shrubbery
Summary: What if sweet little Prim was Reaped? What if nobody volunteered? READ TO FIND OUT! Since Katniss is so boring, I decided to take on Prim's perspective, except nobdy volunteered for her. Rated T for minor violence later in the story.  SpunkySpartan31
1. Chapter 1: Reapings

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. Oh well, that's why I write on FANfiction! **

**Author's Note: I hope there aen't already a bazillion fanfics about Prim being in THG. If so, oh well, I wanna write this anyway! ~SpunkySpartan31**

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I wake up, and find myself in a bed that isn't mine. I roll over to see my mother, fast asleep. I roll over again. The bed Katniss and I share is empty, meaning she must've gone to hunt with Gale already. What time is it? I get out of bed, and pul on a bathrobe that my mother gave to me last Christmas. It still fits me, because I haven't grown since then. In our human ody study, we learned that we are really growing every second, but the difference is just too hard to see. Not me, though. I don't grow at all. But I don't mind.

I check the big old grandfather clock in the kitchen, and it informs me that is is 8:39. I look over to the kitchen table, and am pleased to find that it is bare. Katniss must'vetaken my goat cheese I left for her and Gale. I still have another hunk of it in the fridge, so we can have it with dinner. My face falls, and my heart sinks. If we have dinner together. I almost forgot. The Reapings are today. Funny how you can almost forget about something so terrible. Well, actually, it's not that funny at all.

Eventually, Mom wakes up. I say hello, and she says good morning. I love her, although, I'm not sure if Katniss has ever forgiven her for leaving us. Of course she didn't really "leave" us, but she did mentally after our father died. But she is caring now, and we have a little money, although, we rarely use it. Bartering is more popular than money here in the Seam. She goes to the bathroom to heat some bathwater for me. I look in the cupboard. There isn't much. Some of the tessarae grains (yuck!), some grapes, an apple, and the small leather pouch of money from the apothecary shop Mom runs. A lot more than most people in District 12 have. We're really very lucky, but I still sometimes wish for more. I'm greedy, and I know it. But everypne else says I'm kind, and pretty, and smart, and generous. I don't think I'm generous. If I really were generous, wouldn't I be gving some of my food to the young children? The ones who will die, because their parents can't give them enough food? But Katniss says I'm very generous. And so does everyone else.

For breakfast, I take out the tessarae grain, and pour it into little circles on a pan. Pancakes. I've only had real pancakes once, when I was very little, and my father hadn't died. He bought the mix from the baker for my 5th birthday, and ever since then, I have loved them. Of course, the tessarae grain-pancakes aren't very good, but I do what I can to make them taste better. I make pancakes for everything. We usually use them instead of bread, because Mom puts me in charge of most of the cooking. Pancake-and-turkey sandwiches, and stuff like that. It's actually pretty good. Or, I think it's pretty good, anyway. Whatever.

Anyway, I wait a little bit, then flip the pancakes, and I wait a little more, and the batch of pancakes is ready. I give myself to of the still hot little pancakes, and two for Mom. She comes back into the kitchen while I am starting my second pancake. It doesn't take that long. The pancakes are small, and I am hungry. When I finish my pancakes, I am still hungry. I'm always hungry, but I know that most of the kids here in Seam would do anything to have as much food as I. And most of the parents would do anything for their children to have that amount of food. So I never complain. My mother gives me one of her pancakes, but I refuse. She needs her nourishment as much as I do.

An hour later, Katniss comes in. "Good morning, Mom," she says, slightly coldly to our mother. To me, she says, "How's it goin', Prim?"

"It's goin' good," I say with a giggle. "Did you and Gale like my cheese?"

"Yeah, Gale brought a loaf of bread, so I already had breakfast," Katniss tells me, as if everything were normal. But we all know it isn't. Today will be terrible, and we all know it. What if Katniss gets picked? She has a lot of tessarae, to feed our family, and she wouldn't let me even consider signing up for it. I'm not too worried about me, I only have one slip after all, but how I can I _not _be worried sick about it? I mean, everyone has a chance at getting reaped. But I force myself not to think about it. A lot of kids have more slips than me and Katniss. But that's horrible, too! I want someone else to be in the Games, instead of me or Katniss! That's terrible! That isn't good, or kind, or smart, or pretty, or generous! Oh, I hate this I hate all of this!

But I just reply, "That's good, Mom and I already had some pancakes."

An hour later, I am in my Reaping outfit, the same one Katniss wore when she was my age, and the same one that my mother wore when she was my age. Except, it's sort of big on me, because I'm tiny. But Mother uses some pins, and it fits me okay. She puts my hair into two braids. I smile and thank her.

Katniss is in a beautiful green outfit. I gasp. "That's beautiful, Katniss," I tell her as our mother braids her hair.

"Thanks Prim." She says this stiffly, and i can tell she's still worried about me being Reaped. I don't think that I'll be Reaped. I'm more worried about Katniss. She has a great deal of slips, and I only have one.

We walk over to the crowd of people milling around the town square. I clutch Katniss's hand, afraid that I'll lose her. "I'm scared," I whisper to her.

Katniss is honest. She doesn't tell me that it will be okay, because we all know it won't. Even if a complete stranger is Reaped, she knows that I'll cry every night of of the Games, and then some. Instead she whispers, "I am too."

I want to stand next to Katniss, but she gets pushed into the roped off area for 16-year-old girls befre she can bring me two where the 12-year-old girls stand. So I push through the crowd, until I see my friend Cici. She is wearing a pretty emerald green dress. I say hello. She nods stiffly. I want to cry, but i know that I can't. Not here, with all these people.

Effie Trinket comes up onto the platform. She smiles at the camera, and then begins her speech. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, for coming to our 74 annual Hunger Games Reaping!" she exclaims. Nobody claps. She continues on. " I'm so glad we're all here together on the beautiful late-August day! And now, if District 12's lovely mayor, Arbor Undersee, would please read to us the Treaty of Treason..." Effie's voice trails off.

Mayor Undersee comes up to the podium and reads a off the treaty of treason. I blink back tears to think of all those lost lives fighting for a good cause, but they lost anyway. Cici says I'm overemotional. My other friend Kaysen says that Cici is just being mean, but she's joking. I see Kaysen pushing through the crowd to get to us. She is wearing a pair of old pants that look far to big for her, and a light pink shirt that goes down to her thighs. A red scarf is being used as a sash and a belt. It is not exactly your commom Reaping outfit, but Kaysen's family, though she'd never admit it, is starving about half the time. I usually give her some of my lunch, which she tries to refuse, but always eats it when she thinks I'm not looking.

We wave hi to her, and she comes over just as Mayor Undersee finishes the Treaty of Treason.

"So, now, ladies first!" Effie announces brightly. We all glare at her.

She swishes her hand around the big glass ball. I grimace, and close my eyes, hoping that our family is spared for another year. "Please not us," I pray. "Anyone but us. Or Gale. Or Cici or Kaysen. But please pease please PLEASE not me or Katniss." I think desperately.

With a little flick of her hand, Effie pulls out a tiny slip over paper. She clears her throat, and I clench my hands together, hoping to be spared.

I barely here the words that follow.

"Primrose Everdeen."


	2. Chapter 2: Saying Goodbye

**DISCLAIMER: I still do not own The Hunger Games, so stop asking me, jeez!**

**REVIEWS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!**

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"WHAT? How can this be?" I think to myself as I begin to walk to the stage. I feel tears beginning to form in my eyes, but I refuse to let the Capitol see them. I see Katniss in the crowd. She is paralyzed. She wants to move, to talk, to volunteer for me, but she can't. So I walk onto the stage, accepting that she won't won't be volunteering for me, but then again, I wouldn't let her volunteer for me anyway.

"There she is!" Effie squeals. "Primrose Everdeen! You _are _Primrose Everdeen, aren't you?" she asks me.

I hear myself responding, "Yes, Effie, I'm Primrose Everdeen." I spot a chair meant for the female tribute, and I sit down on it. I stare blankly at the crowd, not really looking at them, just thinking for the first time, the fate I'm condemned to. The fate of 22 others this year, the fate of more to come next year, the fate so many, too many, have already followed. Yes, I will die in the Hunger Games.

Effie's voice jolts me out of my self-pity. "And now, we will Reap our gentleman!" she says excitedly. Effie plunges her hand into the boy's Reaping bowl, the bowl of dread. I see her spindly hands probing the bowl, searching, searching for a name. I look into the crowd. All the boys from Seam are fidgeting uncomfortably. Most of them are dangerously skinny, a miracle that they are still alive with such little food. It could be any one of them, and they all know it.

Effie pulls out a little slip of paper, smaller than most of them, so small, that if tucked into a corner of the ball, it just might be forgotten. Silly boy. Doesn't he know that the first place Effie checks is the corner? She reads the slip of paper once to herself. Then, she clears her throat and says "Peeta Mellark."

The boy that walks up has blond, blond, blond hair, and striking blue eyes. He is of medium build, slightly on the short side, and is one of the few children that actualy look decently fed around here. His facial features, the light blond hair, the same blue eyes, are remarkably similar to mine. If Effie hadn't called out his last name, we could be siblings. I see Katniss in the crowd. She gasps. I can't figure out why. I mean, sure, this boy is handsome, but I don't think that Katniss really cares about that type of stuff. Maybe she knows him from school or something? If so, she's never mentioned him.

Peeta walks onto the stage unsmilingly, and sits down on the chair next to me. For a few seconds, the whole District 12 is sort in an awkward silence. Peeta and I say nothing, the crowd just stares at me, Katniss says nothing, and Effie stays silent. But not for long. "Well, District 12, these are your tributes!" Effie Trinket exclaims. Nobody claps, except this one drunken man by a side alley. Everyone stares at him, and he stops.

A short Capitol man runs up to the stage. I mean, a _really _short man. He must be at least 30, and he's shorter than me. He taps Effie's shoulder, and she leans down. He whispers something into her ear, and then the short man runs off. Effie Trinket straightens up.

"I almost forgot!" she exclaimed. "We need to introduce our past victors!"

In all of the Hunger Games, District 12 has only had to victors. The first one died of poison 5 years after her victory by a victor from District 1, and the second one is still alive. His name is Haymitch Abernathy, and he is a wreck. He is constantly drunk, and they say he had to hire a maid, because he's so dirty. But the rumour goes, when the maid he hired came over to his house, she quit the job after seeing how disgusting the house was. But that's just a story. I'm not sure if it's true or not, but everyone says it is.

"Our first victor was Beeza Swits," Effie announces. "She won in the 16 Hunger Games, at the age of 13. Unfortunately, 5 years later, a true tragedy occurred." I scoff a little at this. The Hunger Games isn't a "true tragedy"? "Beeza was visiting District 1, invited by 19-year-old victor named Handel. Everyone thought they made a lovely couple. Beautiful Beeza and Handsome Handel. But the reason Handel invited her turned out to be far more sinister than that. On the second night of Beeza's stay at his house, she was offered a glass of wine. And everyone knows how famous District 1's wine is, so she gratefully accepted the glass. She fell dead an hour later. Upon further investigation, Distrct 6 discovered that Handel had posioned the wine, and that he never intended for them to become a couple. Handel was jailed, and stayed there until his death 2 years ago," Effie tells the audience.

I shudder at the tale. "What brought Handel to do that to her?" I wonder to myself.

"Our next victor came along many years later," Effie begins. As dumb as she is, she is a decent story-teller, and I'm intersted to here Haymitch's past. "Haymitch Abernathy was Reaped during the second Quarter Quell. The Quell's twist this year? Doubling the amount of tributes. Haymitch's odds of survival were next to nothing: up against 47 other tributes just as desparate as him, and from the poorets District. True, at the time, he was a relatively healthy 18 year old, but nobody ever cosidered him to be the winner. Then, the tributes arrive in the Arena. Haymitch grabs a pack and a knife, getting his left knee and right arm badly injured. He runs out of the bloodbath, shaken up, but still very much got lucky with his pack which had first aid, a gallon of water, a light jacket, and some food. After a day or so, it becomes clear, that everything in the arena is poisonous. Haymitch Abernathy allies with Maylisee Donnor, also from District 12. Sadly, she was killed by mutant birds. And in the final battle, Haymitch conquered the other tribute after a long, bloody fight. So let's here it for... HAYMITCH ABERNATHY!" Effie says.

Haymitch comes up on the stage. he says a slurred hello, and then hugs Effie. I see her wrinkle her nose in disgust. Despite my dire situation, I let out a little giggle.

After Effie pries herself out of Haymitch's arms, he makes a very rude gesture to the camera then and says "I'm bettin' on this one!" while pointing to me. "What 'bout you?" he asks the camera, giving it the finger again. Ugh. I'd never embarass myself like that OR be that rude. The short Capitol man that I saw earlier pushes Haymitch away from the camera.

We're scheduled an hour to say goodbye to all our friends.

Peeta and I follow Effie to the Justice building wordlessly. When we enter the justice building, I can't help but gasp in awe. It must be the most beautiful place in District 12. I know that when my father died, the funeral was held in here, but I was only 6 or 7, and I don't really remember it much. But it is stunning. There ceiling is stained glass, and it has chandeliers with hundreds of burning candles. the carpet is a lush red, and is probably more comfortable than my bed. It seems like all of District 12's money must've been spent on this building. No wonder we're so poor.

Peeta and I are each ushered into two small seperate rooms. I sit on the velvet chair. There is also a couch, presumabely for the guests. The first to come in are Katniss, Mother, and Buttercup. Buttercup leaps from Mother's arms onto my lap, and begins purring loudly. I smile. My eyes are glistening with tears. So are Mother's and Katniss's. I think Buttercup can sense what's happening, because he let's out something between a moan and a sob.

I hug and kiss both of them, and say a final goodbye to Buttercup. I can't believe it. I can't believe this is what's happening to me. I'm far too young. Much too young.

Next Kaysen and Cici come. Cici embraces me into a big hug. She sniffles, and cries a lot. Kaysen is silent, but I can tell she's holding back tears. We say goodbye, and they are gone.

I wait alone for a few minutes.

A Capitol woman comes in, and rushes me onto a train. I see Katniss and my mother, and I wave goodbye. I see tears running down my mother's cheeks. She is broken. I know the she was cracked, when my father died, but now she is broken.

And I know what I must do to piece her back together. It must be done, at all costs. There is only one thing to do.

Win.

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**Chapter 2 finished! Keep on reviewing please! Notice that I said please! If you don't review, then the ghosts of Spunky and Pooky will haunt you. And you do NOT want to be haunted ny them, trust me! Lol. =^-.-^= Meow!**


	3. Chapter 3: Train Ride

**Okay, here's chapter three.**

**MY CATS ARE AWESOME! They are Pluto, Cloudy, and Nosy. Nosy is a little less awesome right now, because he's been a little moody ever since we adopted Pluto, but he's still cute and furry and awesome!**

**Disclaimer: Do I need to do a new disclaimer for every chapter? I mean, I already said it twice, what makes you think I'll change my mind? Anyway, I don't own any of the Hunger Games books or characters.**

**Claimer: I don't know if anyone else has used this idea yet, but if not, then I own the idea of Prim participating in the 74th Hunger Games.**

**A NOTE TO MY LOYAL READERS: I need your help! Yes, YOU there, reading this! I need your help! See, I don't know what to do about Prim. I mean, It's seems logical that she would die, but I REALLY don't want for Prim to die! Send me a PM, about what you think I will do for her. DO NOT answer this in a review, 'cuz if I use your idea, it would spoil it for anyone who reads the reviews (does anyone bother to read review? I usually don't)!**

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Yes, I must win. But, I'm not a survivor. A healer, yes, I can use medicine, and I can use plants to feed myself. But a few berries won't keep me going. I'll need meat. But I can't hunt. And I'm so small. Everyone is going to be bigger, stronger, faster, smarter than me. Well, maybe not smarter. But the Careers don't need brains, when they've got brute force on their side.

I want to cry until I have no tears left, but I suspect the bedroom is being filmed. So instead, I sit on a chair in my room, and look out the window. It is raining now. Pouring. I guess if I can't cry, the sky will cry for me. It is cold in the room, and I'm still in my Reaping dress. I get a blanket off the bed, and wrap it around me. I feel tears stinging in my eyes, blurring my vision. I want so badly to let them go, to have them fall like the rain, but if I want to win the Games, I might as well start now. The television flicks on, even though I haven't turned it on. No surprise there. Capitol broadcasts are mandatory to watch. Everyone in Panem is issued a television. That's why we have it. Otherwise, we'd never be able to afford it.

I glance over the television, curious to see what is being broadcasted. Of course. I should've known. The Recap Reapings. They always show those a few hours after the original Reapings, so you can see the other Distrcict's tributes. I'm scared to see what I'm up against, but I manage to watch the full thing.

I write down the names of all the tributes. Just to keep things orderly. So, I carefully record:

_District 1: Marvel Onely, Glimmer Shine_

_District 2: Cato Garcia, Clove Erb (Cato looks evil)_

_District 3: Hardee Snofmurger, Delcia Carince_

_District 4: Solemn Trout, Envy Salmon (these two are cousins)_

_District 5: Slayte Carmer, Emarra Foxx (Emarra looks crafty)_

_District 6: Jolt Black, Mina Xill_

_District 7: Denis Hammer, Milli Salford_

_District 8: Bull Horn, Cherry Pick_

_District 9: Hunter Camo, Shura Deysmones_

_District 10: Blick Alfonzo, Isa Prit_

_District 11: Thresh Thompson, Rue Fieldings (Rue is my age, Thresh is tough)_

I don't write District 12. Too depressing.

I sit there, with my blanket wrapped around, watching the storm. Storms always comfort me. It's was always such a nice feeling to be snuggled under a blanket with Buttercup purring next to me, on our old, sagging sofa, next to Katniss, while my mother made us tea. To be saf inside, despite the storm, has always been one of the most comforting things I could imagine. Today, it brings no comfort. My stomach rumbles along with the thunder. It's 8:00. I refuse to give into my hunger. I don't want to go down to dinner, and no one can make me. Nothing can make me. I just want to be alone. I click off the TV. The recap Reapings are over, and it is showing the Capitol, where bettings and sponsoring are already beginning to be made.

I wonder if anyone is betting on me.

Probably not.

I'm just a weak 12-year-old girl from District 12, after all. Why would anyone sponsor or bet on me?

But maybe, a 10-year-old from the Capitol, a girl too fresh, too young, too innocent, to have been contaminated by the Capitol, is begging her mother to sponsor me. And maybe that mother loves her child, and goes into the place where money for District 12 is being collected. And maybe, she gives money, to be used for me. The thought comforts me, like Buttercup, purring by side, protecting me. I cling onto this idea, now feeling a little less hopeless than before. I must not lose sight of this hope. It may be the only thing I have.

My stomach screams in protest, but, living in District 12, I'm used to that. I can go without dinner tonight. I've done it many times before. I sit in the chair numbly, not thinking about anything, when I hear a knock at the door. "Come in," I say in a whisper. I'm afraid if I speak to much, I'll start crying. But, then I realize that whoever is behind the door can't hear me. "Come in!" I say, a little bit louder this time.

"It's locked," a voice says. Oh. It's Peeta. With some effort, I drag myself off the chair, still draped in my the blanket.

I open the door. The first thing I notice about Peeta is that he has changed clothes. He no longer is in his tuxedo that he was in at the Reapings, but a pair of sweatpants, and a hoodie. Of course. How stupid of me. There probably are clothes for me in the drawer. The second thing I notice is that he is carrying a platter of food. He comes in my compartment, and places it on a table. "Here," Peeta says. "I figured you might be hungry."

"Yeah," I say, trying to act casual.

"So, why weren't you at dinner?" Peeta asks me. His blue eyes search me, looking for an answer.

"I dunno. I didn't really feel like listening to Haymitch's drunk conversations, and how excited Effie is about the Games. It doesn't matter for them, does it? I mean, Haymitch is drunk and protected. He already survived. And Effie's in no danger. Their sympathy isn't real," I tell him.

"My sympathy is real," he tells me. "I'm going through the same thing you are."

"Yes, you say that. But we both know it isn't true. Everyone wants to win. You're fighting against me," I say. We both know I'm right.

All Peeta says is, "Be sure to eat it before it gets cold."

Although I'm ashamed, I give into the temptation of eating, after Peeta leaves. It is smells soooo good. Besides, it makes sense that I fatten myself up, before the Games. Peeta gave me a lot of food. The Capitol is clever. They dine on all of the District's specialty. Peeta has given me a small portion of each of the Districts. It's actually really clever. From District 1, there is a some sort of delicious-looking pastry. From 2, there is a small sampling of wine. From 3, peas and carrots, or as the neat little paper card Peeta included says "nuts and volts." District 4 supplies some salmon. District 5 is beef and cheese. District 6 is a lollipop, which I've never heard of before. District 7 has "Ham-mer Slammer," which is small chunks of ham, in some sort of sauce. District 8 is represented by a small slice of bread. District 9 is a bit of wild turkey. District 10, frog legs- yuck. District 11, hearty bread, with fruit jam. District 12 is left out. I wonder what it had been at dinner. Peeta has given me only a small sample of each, so I'd have room for everything. He's too nice. Trying t win me over, before we even arrive at the Capitol.

I eat everything, even the froglegs from 10. They're actually very good. So is the "lollipop" from 6.

I don't bother to change into the pajamas that have been provided, when I crawl into bed. If this dress is all I have of District 12, then I will take it with me. The thunderstorm keeps on raging all throught the night. The thunderstorm. I've begun to think of it as Prim's Thunderstorm. My thunderstorm. To show the Capitol that I am angry. To show the Capitol they've made a mistake. Prim's Thunderstorm is loud, but I am alsleep within minutes.

The next morning, I am at loss for what to do. I usually go to school, during the day. When I'm back, I snuggle with Buttercup, and play with Lady. Sometimes, I am allowed to play with Cici or Kaysen. A few times, Katniss took me out to the woods with her, but she never taught me how to hunt. She just showed me her favorite spots. But I can't do any of those things here.

I ask a Train Worker if we're allowed to write and send letters. I want to tell Katniss and my mother everthing I couldn't when we were being monitered during that last hour together. Come to think of it, mail is probably read, too. I'll have to be careful of what I say, if I write any letters.

I ask for some paper and an envelope, and the Train Worker gives me some, and a stamp. On the first piece of paper, I write:

_Dear Mother,_

_I love you. Very, very much. More than you could possibly imagine. I forgive you for those bad years. When I die, please, do not do that to Katniss. You both must be strong. Katniss will care for you, of course, but you must care for her. Tell Cici and Kaysen that they were amazing friends, better than I could ever hope for. When I am in the arena, I intend on surviving. I intend on seeing you again. I intend on living a long life, where my coffin won't appear for a long time. If my plans go wrong, I need you to not join me. I need you to stay, until your time is up._

_Mother, this is so hard for me. To accept that I will probably die within a month. Please, try to accept it, as well. I can''t promise my safety, for it would be a lie. But I promise, I will fight to stay alive. I will never let my gaurd down. I will train hard. I will make a splash during the interviews. I'll stay away from other tributes. I'll think like the enemy. I WILL DO EVERYTHING I CAN, BUT SOME THINGS WILL BE BEYOND MY CONTROL._

_But always remember that I love you._

_Your daughter,_

_Primrose Everdeen "Prim"_

_P.S. If you want to write back to me, the adress is_

_The Capitol  
Tribute Center, Room 12B  
ZIP 53296  
To: Primrose Everdeen  
Via: TribMail_

_For TribMail, go to the Justice Building. They send letters to the tibutes free of charge._

_P.P.S. I want primroses for my funeral._

I am crying as I write that last sentence. I was holding back tears, as my words to my mother spilled out. Now, I cry and cry, and cannot stop. Finally, I dry my eyes, and begin my next letter. To Katniss.

_Dear Katniss,_

_I had always dreaded you being Reaped. Who ever would have thought it was me whose name was being called? I know you couldn't volunteer. I know how much you wanted to. I forgive you. I love you. And, please never forget that._

_I already told mother this, but I need to tell you as well. When I am in the arena, I have no intent of dying. I want to win, need to win. I'm so scared, Katniss. Very, very scared. You would've been brave, and have already have come up with battle plans, I bet. But I'm not as strong as you. But, you know what? I'm glad that you weren't chosen. Because you'll be more useful around home than I would ever be._

_I love you so much._

_Your sister,_

_Prim_

_P.S. I told Mother how to reply to my letter. Ask her, if you want to respond._

I am still crying. And I don't care who sees me. I just want to cry until I have no tears left. So, I cry like there's no tomorrow. Which, in my current situation, there probably isn't. When I realize this, I just cry harder, and harder, until there I've used the whole tissue box, and I don't even remember why I'm crying. I have a headache, and my face is all red. And I'm hungry. I've missed breakfast and lunch.

I sit in my room, until my breathing is under control, and I can talk without sobbing uncontrollably. I get off the chair, and shakily walk to the door. I open it, and head down to the dining area. As I suspected, they have snacks there, in case we get hungry before dinner. I take a slice of just-out-of-the-oven bread, and some goat's cheese, just like I'd have at home. I sit down, and scarf it down. Then, I walk around the train, until I find a door labelled "Peeta Mellark." I knock.

"Come in!" Peeta's muffled voice replies. So, I enter.

"Hello," I say.

"Ah, Prim. I've been wanting you." Peeta's voice is calm, and friendly, yet formal, at the same time. He knows that we can't become to close.

"Oh, really?" I ask. My voice is not challenging, just surprised. We speak as if adressing complete strangers, not daring to act friendly, yet not really acting hostile either. You never know whether he would make a good alley.

"Yes." Peeta replies. "I wanted to draw you, as a matter of fact. Would you allow me to?" What the heck is this guy talking about. "You see," he says, as if he knew I was confused, "I want to draw everything in my world before I die. And, you, a fellow tribute, would be a perfect place to start. I already have the tributes from all the other Districts, you see." He motions his arms to a bunch of other canvas's. The people I recongnize are spot-on. The lesser-known tributes, I can't really tell. He has also drawn family scenes, and flowers, and school and Seam. I am stunned.

"You must have been busy," I observed.

"Oh, I have."

"Well, you can draw me," I tell him. After all, it's not like I have anything better to do. So, I sit down, and he begins. I don't smile for my picture. I don't know if I can smile anymore. He examines me. I sit, absolutely still. After 45 minutes, Peeta declares that it is ready.

He flips it around. I gasp. He has made me beautiful, exactly like me, but... better. "Can I send this to my family?" I ask him. He nods. I exit.

I spend the rest of the day doing nothing. At 6:30, I attend dinner. The food is fabulous. Then, for dessert, we feast on, Fudge. It is delicious, and I would love to eat the whole platter of it- if I wouldn't get sick from it. I begin to turn a little green from all the food, and the motion on the train, but I try to ignore it.

Suddenly Effie Trinket looks up, and runs to the window. "We're almost there!" she shrieks. "The Capitol!"

I look out the window. As much as I hate to admit it, the Capitol is stunning. I rush to the window to get a better look. Neon lights blind me, and it is beautiful beyond belief. Next to me, I hear Peeta gasp in awe. And then, I hate the Capitol even more, with all it's shining glory.

* * *

**And that's all for this chapter! See you next time! -.-"**

**~SpunkySpartan31**


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